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poem on the occasion of the flag coming home


Statistics don't lie
though the truth is relatively
forgotten in revisionist history.

There were no weapons of mass destruction
no one cut the puppet strings
until someone pulled the lever and he
dangled in the air, breathless and motionless.


There is death with honor, and there is no
dignity in brain injury unless there is reason
There is solid weight to carry
when arms and legs are blown off. The
body must learn new ways of being, the mind
must work with overloaded circuits and the
under-estimated will to be in all but the death
of circumstance. There are wounds that can
not be healed and memories that will resurface
of their own free will.


The smell of oil is tinged with blood. There will
be blood in the sand and holes in our
hearts for those who had passed this way but once,

And now we have brought back the stars and stripes, folded
into the triangle of the articulation of war,
boxed like momentos de reflection. Politics heralded and
watched like entertainment in living color, like war games
cchildren learn to play.

The gates of hell we open and close.
Human history. Once lived and
lived again and again.
Once played out. A turtle shout.
An untidy war.
Civilian bells toll for every soul
And the day will be forgotten.

Iran looms ahead like shadows of the winter fox
phases of the cinnamon moon.

Last few words: 
Poem was inspired by Theo's poem on another poetry site. ~A
Editing stage: 


Oh how true it is, your words are very apt. We must be prepared to defend our country from attack, but we must stop interfering in other countries just for money. Your poem expresses this better than i do, i just can't understand why no one has commented so far. Love Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

justified....unjustified, I reckon it seldom matters to those who bear the brunt of war............stan

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